Kane cursed his wretched luck, his thoughts a torrent of frustration and self-recrimination. 'What's with my luck?' he thought bitterly. 'Is this some cruel jest of fate? Is this the burden of being [Fated]?'
The Captain and the Guard, their faces grim, had also noticed the Wind Crawl Spiders. The monstrous creatures, with their chitinous bodies and predatory grace, were a terrifying sight. The Captain, his voice a low whisper, issued a terse command. "Move swiftly, and for the love of the Gods, don't make any noise. We can't afford to engage them all."
Kane and the Guard nodded, their movements cautious and deliberate. They moved with a stealth they didn't know they possessed, their boots barely disturbing the icy ground. They were on the verge of escaping the nesting ground, of reaching the relative safety of the open mountainside, when disaster struck.
Suddenly, a swirling vortex of grey storm energy slammed into the trees, shaking them violently and sending showers of ice and snow cascading down upon the fleeing survivors. The impact reverberated through the mountainside, a deafening roar that shattered the fragile silence. The trees, previously still and menacing, became a cacophony of rustling leaves and snapping branches. And the Wind Crawl Spiders, roused from their slumber, erupted from their hidden nests, their many eyes glowing with predatory hunger.
That damned Nightmare Creature. It had been following them, stalking them from the shadows. But instead of attacking them directly, it had chosen to strike the nesting ground, to unleash the spiders upon them. It was a cruel and cunning tactic, designed to overwhelm them with sheer numbers.
The survival trio was forced to abandon all pretense of stealth. They broke into a desperate run, scrambling upwards, their boots slipping on the treacherous ice. As Kane sprinted, his lungs burning with the frigid air, a massive Wind Crawl Spider landed directly in his path, its eight legs spread wide, its fangs dripping with venom.
Kane reacted on instinct, his mind racing. He summoned his Memory, the Aracne Sword. The weapon materialized in his hand, a vision of deadly elegance. It resembled a Jian sword, its blade long and straight, its hilt and scabbard crafted from a dark, crimson material that echoed the red and black chitin of the spiders themselves. He didn't have time to examine the runes etched into the blade, to decipher its secrets. He simply needed to use it, and use it now.
He swung the Aracne Sword, the blade singing through the air. His movements were fluid and powerful, a far cry from the clumsy swings he had made earlier. The sword felt like an extension of his own arm, perfectly balanced and responsive. He aimed for the spider's legs, severing two of them with a single, precise stroke.
Kane was amazed. 'I'm actually able to wield this thing properly,' he thought, a surge of adrenaline coursing through him. 'Thanks to the [Adaptive] attribute, my body is learning, adapting to the sword's weight and balance, learning the art of swordsmanship with incredible speed.'
Before the spider could recover, Kane thrust the Aracne Sword into its head, the blade piercing its chitinous skull and silencing its shriek of pain.
[You have slain an Awakened Beast, Wind Crawling Spider]
The familiar voice of the Nightmare Spell confirmed his kill. Kane didn't linger. He pulled the sword free and immediately looked back. The Captain and the Guard were racing towards him, their faces pale with terror. A dozen more Wind Crawl Spiders were in hot pursuit, their movements swift and relentless. And in the distance, Kane could see the swirling vortex of the storm, a malevolent presence that dominated the sky.
Kane wondered, his mind reeling, 'Just how strong is that fucking storm? It's like a force of nature, a primal entity of destruction.'
The situation was deteriorating rapidly. The icy mountainside, with its treacherous terrain and biting cold, was slowing them down. They couldn't maintain their top speed, and the Wind Crawl Spiders were closing in.
Just as the spiders were about to overtake them, a sudden rain of arrows arced through the air, whistling past Kane's ears. The arrows struck the spiders with deadly accuracy, piercing their chitinous armor and sending them crashing to the ground. Every single spider in pursuit was killed instantly.
Kane and the others stopped, their hearts pounding, their bodies trembling with exhaustion and relief. They turned to see their saviors. Dozens of soldiers, clad in sturdy grey armor, emerged from the treeline, their bows lowered. They were a disciplined and formidable force, their faces grim and determined. And at their head was a young man, his armor slightly more ornate, his bearing commanding.
The young man, his voice strong and clear, addressed them. "Who are you? What are your intentions in this forsaken place?"
The Captain, his voice hoarse and weary, immediately stepped forward. "I am Sir Galliard, a follower of the War God," he said, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He then pointed to Kane, his expression hardening. "We were taking this prisoner to the War Goddess's temple for execution. He is a follower of the Dreadful One."
Kane sighed inwardly. 'Of course,' he thought. 'These guys aren't going to let me go. I'm still a prisoner, just a slightly less caged one.'
Galliard gave the young leader a brief account of their journey, the ambush by the storm, the battle with the spiders, and Kane's unexpected display of ferocity.
The leader listened intently, his expression unreadable. After a moment of silence, he spoke. "I will escort you to the War Goddess's temple. It is not safe to travel these mountains alone."
The Captain, his relief evident, immediately accepted the offer. And so, they continued their journey, the small band of survivors now accompanied by the company of soldiers. Kane, however, was far from happy. He was still being treated as a prisoner, albeit one who was allowed to walk free. He was constantly watched, his every move scrutinized. He was alive, but he was far from free.
They traveled for what seemed like an eternity, the icy mountains stretching endlessly before them. As night fell, they set up a makeshift camp, finding a relatively sheltered spot beneath a rocky overhang. Exhausted and wounded, the soldiers quickly fell asleep, their snores echoing in the cold night air.
Kane, however, couldn't rest. His mind was still racing, his thoughts consumed by the events of the day and the mysteries of the Nightmare Spell. He slipped away from the sleeping camp, his movements silent and stealthy. He found a secluded spot, away from the watchful eyes of the soldiers, and summoned his Memory again.
The Aracne Sword materialized in his hand, its crimson and black blade gleaming in the moonlight. This time, he had the opportunity to examine the runes etched into the hilt, to decipher the secrets of the weapon.
Memory: [Aracne Sword]
Memory Rank: Awakened
Memory Type: Weapon
Memory Description: [A blade born of twisted thought and woven steel. Threads of darkness coalesce into a weapon of deadly precision and unsettling sentience. It can separate into threads and converge at a single point.]
Kane studied the description, his mind working to unravel its cryptic meaning. 'Threads of darkness... woven steel... a weapon of unsettling sentience...' he mused. And then, the final sentence struck him. 'This sword can split into threads and converge at a single point.'
A spark of understanding ignited in his mind. 'That's it,' he realized. 'This sword isn't just a blade. It's a collection of threads, of individual strands of metal, that can be manipulated and controlled. It can separate and reform, becoming a whip, a net, a thousand tiny needles... the possibilities are endless.'
A grim smile touched his lips. 'This could be incredibly useful.'
As Kane practiced manipulating the Aracne Sword, testing its limits and exploring its strange properties, he noticed something in the distance. A long, dark shape, moving stealthily among the twisted trees. It was another one of those tentacles, the same kind that had dissolved into the icy wind after the storm had dispersed.
Kane knew, with a chilling certainty, who it belonged to. The storm. The Nightmare Creature.
He watched it for a long moment, his mind racing. 'Why isn't it attacking?' he wondered. 'Why is it hiding, lurking in the shadows? It had the perfect opportunity to strike while we were battling the spiders. Why didn't it take it?'
Then, a chilling realization dawned upon him. 'It's recovering,' he thought. 'The more it attacks, the more it expends its storm energy, the weaker it becomes. That's why it dispersed after the initial attack, and that's why it's hiding now, trying to regain its strength. It's smart. Cunning. And it's watching us, waiting for the right moment to strike again.'
Suddenly, a plan began to form in Kane's mind, a risky but potentially effective way to deal with the creature. He needed to draw it out, to force it to reveal itself, to weaken it before they reached the War Goddess's temple.
He looked around, his eyes scanning the landscape. He spotted a large stone nearby, its surface jagged and uneven. He picked it up, hefting it in his hand. Then, he looked towards the edge of the forest, where he had seen another nest of Wind Crawl Spiders, some distance away from their camp.
He took aim and threw the stone, hurling it with all his might. The stone crashed into the trees near the spider nest, the sound echoing through the silent night.
The disturbance was mild, but it was enough. The Wind Crawl Spiders stirred, their many eyes glowing.
Kane immediately ran back to the camp, his voice ringing out in the darkness. "Attack! Spiders are here! They're coming!"
The camp erupted into chaos. The soldiers, startled awake, grabbed their weapons and scrambled to their feet, their eyes wide with fear as they saw the horde of Wind Crawl Spiders rushing towards them. They summoned their swords, their faces grim, and prepared to fight.
Kane, however, stayed back, watching the unfolding events with a cold detachment. He knew what he was doing. He was using the spiders as bait, drawing the Nightmare Creature out of hiding.
It took the soldiers nearly five minutes to defeat the spiders, their victory hard-won and costly. They were exhausted, their armor stained with ichor, their faces grim.
The leader, his voice weary, addressed his men. "We have rested enough. We need to move, and we need to move fast. This place is not safe."
And so, the camp was abandoned. They continued their journey towards the War Goddess's temple, the soldiers moving with a renewed sense of urgency. The storm, however, was still following them, lurking in the shadows, its presence a silent threat that only Kane seemed to notice.
As the group traveled, the leader, his curiosity finally getting the better of him, turned to Kane. "Why are you a follower of the Dreadful One?" he asked, his tone a mixture of curiosity and disdain.
Kane, his expression hardening, replied, "Why not? Isn't it my choice? My life, my beliefs?"
The leader scoffed. "Yeah, you're right. It is your choice. But it's a stupid one. You won't survive this path. You're weak, your skills are subpar. You barely survived the initial attack. And even if you were to convert, to renounce your allegiance to that... thing... you would still be a loser, a pathetic wretch. Because you lack something that can't be taught, something essential: ambition. So, your opinion doesn't matter here. You're nothing but a burden."
The words hit Kane like a physical blow. He realized, with a sickening clarity, a fundamental flaw in his own character. He had been so focused on mere survival, on escaping his immediate predicament, that he had never truly yearned for victory. He had never had a taste of it, never experienced the thrill of triumph.
His entire life had been defined by powerlessness. He had been powerless to save his parents, his home, his belongings, his life. He had harbored an ambition, a burning desire to prove his parents' innocence to the world, but that ambition had not made him stronger. In fact, it had driven him to despair, to a crippling sense of hopelessness. He had tried to explain the truth, to plead his case, but the world, blinded by the clan's fame and influence, had turned a deaf ear to his cries.
Kane, his heart filled with a cold, burning rage, realized the depth of his powerlessness, the sheer futility of his past efforts. He stared at the leader, his eyes burning with a newfound intensity. 'I will pay them all back,' he thought, his voice a silent vow. 'Tenfold. Every single one of them. Including you, you arrogant bastard. I will become strong. I will become powerful. And I will make them all regret the day they ever looked down on me.'